Roanoke Times Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc. DATE: THURSDAY, September 22, 1994 TAG: 9409240020 SECTION: EXTRA PAGE: 2 EDITION: METRO SOURCE: TOM SHALES DATELINE: WASHINGTON LENGTH: Medium
In the little town of Rome, Wis., where the series is set, have things changed very much? No. As we rejoin the Romans, they are doing as these Romans do, wrestling with complex issues of conscience, re-examining their values, coping with life in the so-called modern world. Series creator and executive producer David E. Kelley, an ``L.A. Law'' alumnus, continues to throw the book at them.
Kelley, who wrote the season premiere, ``Survival of the Fittest,'' seems to have renewed his faith in God over the summer but lost some of his faith in our legal system. He actually has the town's crusty old grouch of a judge (Ray Walston) declare from the bench that we should all guard against ``blind devotion to the Constitution.'' We should? Should we guard against ``blind devotion to the Ten Commandments'' too?
The case in question involves a 16-year-old girl found murdered soon after the episode begins. The first thing found is actually her severed finger. Later the body is pulled out of a pond. Police were led to the location by the prime suspect, a young drifter with a criminal record. But the way they found out turns out to be a problem; a cop wheedled the information out of the suspect by appealing to his religious upbringing and did so while the young man's lawyer was not present.
Thus the anguished town, and the young victim's mortified parents, are faced with the possibility that the suspect, who appears to be guilty as hell, will walk free on the basis of a legal technicality, a violation of his civil rights by one of the cops.
Meanwhile, there's a subplot brewing: Some local parents are upset that a science teacher (guest star Matt Frewer) is teaching ``creationism'' as well as evolution in his classes. ``Religion and science don't have to be mutually exclusive,'' he says but the parents are outraged anyway. Eventually the young son of Sheriff Jimmy Brock (Tom Skerritt) and Dr. Jill Brock (Kathy Baker) files a lawsuit to make the teacher cease and desist.
``Freedom of religion means the freedom not to believe, too,'' the sheriff lectures from the head of the dinner table. But the kids are confused. And the parents must confront their own lapses in faith. By the end of the hour, souls have been searched to bits, as happens just about every week on ``Picket Fences.''
The cast is outstanding, as any fan of the series knows, though there seems to be a couple of regulars missing this year -perhaps the result of budget cuts. Fyvush Finkel is back, of course, as apparently the only lawyer and, besides his wife, the only Jewish citizen living in Rome. Finkel deservedly won an Emmy this year. Also back are the very attractive couple of Lauren Holly and Costas Mandylor as cops, Holly Marie Combs as the Brocks' 17-year-old daughter, Don Cheadle as the local district attorney and apparently only African American in Rome, and little Adam Wylie as Zack Brock, the lad who sues the school.
It's still hard to determine just how small a small town this is. Besides having only one lawyer, Rome has a very small police force, one priest and one Protestant clergyman. And yet whenever a news story breaks, a big flock of reporters materializes. Perhaps they came over from Mayberry or Mount Pilot or Grovers Corners. Kelley really should have just named his town Microcosm, U.S.A., and be done with it.
You have to hand it to Kelley, though: He has kept ``Picket Fences'' as provocative as any drama series on TV. It usually provokes me to extreme irritation, especially when Kelley paints himself into a narrative corner and then pulls some sneaky switcheroo at the last minute.
At least ``Picket Fences'' is one show about American life in which the characters do grapple with difficult issues and in which people do have religious faith as a prominent part of their lives. ``Picket Fences'' is prickly and troubling and sometimes confounding - and yet still worth its weight in gold.
Washington Post Writers Group
by CNB